James Schmiz - The Witches of Karres

But he knew as he asked… A distant, heavy, droning sound, approaching with incredible rapidity. Goth licked her lips quickly. “Egger Route!” she murmured. “Wonder who…”

The droning swelled, crashed in on them, ended abruptly.

The Leewit lay curled up on her side on the floor, eyes shut.

The captain scooped her up, was looking around for something to bundle her up in again when Goth said sharply, “She’s waking up! Just hang on hard! This one won’t be too bad—”

He hung on hard… and comparatively speaking, it wasn’t too bad. For about ten seconds he had the feeling of clutching a small runaway engine to him, with many pistons banging him simultaneously. There was also a great deal of noise. Then it was over.

The Leewit twisted her head around to see who was holding her.

“ You! ” she snarled. “ What you do? ”

“It wasn’t me!” the captain told her breathlessly. He put her down on her feet. “We don’t—”

The communicator signaled from the inner room.

“That’ll be Toll!” Goth said, and ran to switch it on.

It was Toll.

Half an hour later, the captain sat alone in the control chair again, absently knuckling his chin.

The Leewit was staying. No one had sent her deliberately along the Egger Route to the Venture this time; so the witches felt it was something he and the Leewit had done between them. Some affinity bond had been established; some purpose was being worked out. It would be best not to interfere with this until it could be clarified.

He and the Leewit were about equally dumbfounded at the idea of an affinity bond between them, though the captain did his best to conceal his surprise. The smallest witch had accepted the situation, rather grudgingly.

Well, strange things simply kept happening when one started going around with witches, he thought… Then he suddenly stiffened, sat up straight, hair bristling.

Like hearing a whiff of perfume, like seeing the tinkle of a bell — vatches came in all sizes; and this one was no giant. He could make it out now, flicking about him to left and right. A speck of blackness which seemed no bigger than his thumb. It might be as small as a vatch could get — but it was a vatch!

It came to a pause above the control desk before him. A pair of tiny silver eye slits regarded him merrily.

“Don’t you start making trouble now!” the captain warned it.

“Goodness, no!” giggled the vatch. “I wouldn’t think of making trouble, big dream thing!” It swirled up and away and about the control room and was gone.

Gone where, he wondered. He couldn’t rell it any more. He got out of the chair, paused undecidedly. Then from the passage leading to the passenger section came sudden sounds — a yelp of alarm from Vezzarn, a shriek of pure rage from the Leewit.

The intercom clicked on.

“Captain,” Goth’s voice told him, “better get down here!” She was choking with laughter.

“What’s happening?” the captain asked, relaxing a little.

“Having a little trouble with a baby vatch… oh, my! Better come handle it!” The intercom went off.

“Well,” the captain muttered, heading hurriedly across the outer room towards the passage, “here we go again!”